


Deep In the Cell of My Heart

by asweetandtenderhooligan



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Angst, Depression, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweetandtenderhooligan/pseuds/asweetandtenderhooligan
Summary: Morrissey has been acting strangely, and Johnny finally figures out why.





	Deep In the Cell of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> If you are struggling with depression or are easily triggered by topics surrounding depression, I urge you to read with caution or to avoid reading this fic. I mean no offense to anyone reading this, I genuinely care about the mental health of my readers.

Something had been going on with Morrissey lately; his performances with The Smiths were becoming less energetic and he always seemed elsewhere. He was no longer sticking around after shows to meet the fans; instead he would retreat to the tour bus and say absolutely nothing. When the band would return to their hotel rooms, Morrissey would go right to sleep instead of reading or talking to Johnny. Well, at least he would try to sleep. The most sleep he managed to get was 2 hours a night, if he was lucky.

At one show in particular, Morrissey forgot the words to “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now”. Rather than making a joke or improvising, he threw down the mic and stormed off the stage. The rest of the band was in shock: Mike stopped playing; Andy looked at Mike and shrugged as his bass playing slowly came to a halt; and Johnny threw down the guitar to chase after him.

Johnny found him in the dressing room, chasing a Valium down with water. “Moz, what the fuck was that out there?” he asked aggressively, “seriously! You just ran off! You’re forgetting your lines, you’re not saying anything to anyone... what is going on with you, Moz? I’m incredibly worried about you.” Morrissey looked down so he wouldn’t have to look Johnny in the eye. 

“Now’s not the time, Johnny.”

“You say that every time. Let me help you.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I love you, Moz. It’s my job to help you.”

“You can’t help me.”

“But I can try.”

“Johnny..,” Morrissey paused before speaking up again, “I’m leaving the tour.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving the tour... My flight to Manchester departs in the morning.”

“Leaving the tour? You can’t leave the tour, you’re the singer! And we have 12 more shows to play! What are we supposed to do?” Johnny was getting angry, now pacing back and forth.

“I don’t know. Get a new singer, leave the tour, switch to vocals and have someone else play guitar... I don’t know, Johnny. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Now leave me alone,” Morrissey said, pushing past Johnny and exiting the building.

______________________________________________________________________________

Back at the hotel room, Morrissey sat in a chair by the window watching the rain fall. Johnny had just left the bathroom after taking a shower, his hair still partially wet. “Hey, you’re not in bed! This is a good sign,” Johnny said, smiling. Morrissey said nothing and continued to look out the window.

“Say, um...,” Johnny started, “I’m going out to the hotel bar downstairs with Mike and Andy for some drinks. Do you want to come along? It will be our first time out as a band in a while.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass.”

Frustrated, Johnny sat down at the queen size bed closest to Morrissey. “Look, Moz. I love you and I want to be there for you, but I can’t even try to help you if you won’t talk to me or let me try.”

“I just don’t feel up to going out tonight.” Morrissey turned to look at him. Johnny could see the bags under Morrissey’s eyes and how pale he was becoming; he looked ill. 

“Moz... are you okay? Have you been sleeping?”

Morrissey smiled. “I’m fine, really. I just haven’t been feeling too well lately and I would like to get some rest before my flight in the morning.”

Johnny sighed. “Okay. Well, I’m going out now. Do you need anything?”

“Could you please turn out the lights? I am going to get ready for bed.” Johnny nodded and kissed Morrissey before turning out the lights and closing the door.

Morrissey got up to make himself a cup of tea. While taking out a mug, he looked over at the Valium on his night stand and sighed. All he could think about was taking as many pills as he could and allowing Death to take him. He had been trying to keep his composure for the band and for Johnny, but despite his best efforts, his life was falling apart. He had been planning this for months, but he wasn’t sure if he could wait until returning to Manchester; Morrissey was suffocated by feelings of despair and agony, and he couldn’t go on any longer.

After the tea finished, he set the mug on the window sill and looked towards the night stand once more. He bit his lip and finally decided to get up and grab the bottle of pills along with a note pad and a pen; he wanted to give Johnny one final goodbye before slipping into a permanent sleep.

Dear Johnny,

I’m sorry to have you discover me like this, but I cannot go on any longer. The pressures of the record label, this tour, and the fame are causing me great stress; I haven’t had a moment to rest. I have hardly slept in months... I no longer have the strength nor the passion to write or sing. I can barely get out of bed every morning. I have been an awful friend to Andy and Mike and I have been a terrible lover to you, as of late. You deserve someone much better than I have ever been to you. “Deep in the cell of my heart, I will feel so glad to go...”

Thank you for doing the best that you could with me. I love you always, I will see you in the afterlife. Goodbye, my love.

-Moz

Morrissey placed the letter on the bed nearby and dumped as many pills as he could hold into his hand. Before he could toss them into his mouth, Johnny walked in through the door.

“Hey, sorry Moz! I forgot my wallet and I-” 

“GET OUT JOHNNY!!!” Morrissey yelled, shoving the Valium into his mouth. Johnny ran and tackled Morrissey to the ground, making him spit the pills out of his mouth. Morrissey shoved him off and tried scooping the pills into his hand, but Johnny pulled him back and wrapped his arms around his stomach tightly. “Let... me... go...,” Morrissey gasped, kicking and squirming. 

“No! If I do, you’re just going to try and kill yourself!”

“Please, just let me die. I really want to go!” Morrissey began to sob heavily, now burying his face in the guitarist’s chest. “I want to die, Johnny. I can’t live like this anymore. Anything has to be better than this!” He continued to cry and fight as Johnny held him tightly. He began to stroke his hair gently and whisper, “Shh... It’s okay, love. It’s okay. I’m here for you. Everything will be okay.” Morrissey finally stopped fighting, but continued to sob into Johnny’s shoulder. “Just let me go, Johnny. Just let me go. Please, the pain is too much.”

“No, love. I’m going to help you. I won’t leave you alone here for a second.”

“You have to go, I need to escape this dreadful world.”

“Don’t say that... Can we talk about this? I really want to help you.”

Morrissey remained silent, something he tended to do to avoid any situation in which people confronted him. “...And not saying anything isn't going to help,” Johnny reminded him.

Morrissey looked down at Johnny and nodded while wiping away the tears from his face. Johnny let him go and Morrissey stood up, extending a hand to pull Johnny up. “You lay down on the bed and I’ll fix you a cup of tea,” Johnny offered. Morrissey nodded, walking over to the bed closest to the window and laying down.

_______________________________________

Johnny brought a cup of tea to him, handing it over. “Be careful, love. The tea is very hot.”

“Thank you,” Morrissey said quietly, giving Johnny a weak smile.

Johnny nodded slightly and sat down next to him at the foot of the bed. “Now,” he started, looking over at Morrissey, “please tell me how you got here, Moz. How you go to this point; I want to help.”

Morrissey took a sip of his tea before setting it down and sitting up. “Well,” Morrissey began, “do you remember your quarrel with Angie regarding your feelings for me?”

“Moz, no, don’t-”

“Johnny, please,” Morrissey cut him off before starting up again, “Angie had broken up with you after you confessed that you were in love with me and that you and I had been having affair for a few months. Although you claimed that you were happy about where we ended up, I still couldn’t help but feel that you slightly resented me for it. That maybe if I hadn’t spoken to you about my feelings, you wouldn’t have kissed me, that we wouldn’t have started our affair, and that maybe you and Angie wouldn’t have broken up. I know that you love me, Johnny, but I feel like you aren’t there for me due to whatever anger you feel, or may have felt. Does that make sense to you?”

Johnny felt tears roll down his cheeks; he had just realised that he himself was crying. He wiped the tears from his eyes before speaking. “Moz, I... Yes, I was a little angry for a time, but never once at you. I hated myself for not telling you how much I loved you sooner, and for not being honest with Angie. And I know that I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve been, and I’m sorry. Well here I am, Moz.” Johnny reached for Morrissey’s hand and held it between his two hands. “Here I am.”

Morrissey was speechless; he had no idea what to say to Johnny after that gentle, loving response. He was bewildered.

“Well you don’t need to look so pleased!” Johnny laughed, lightly punching Morrissey in the arm, making him laugh. “Come on, let’s join the guys.” Johnny stood up and pulled Morrissey up with him. They walked over to the door and just before shutting off the lights, Morrissey leaned in and kissed the shorter man gently. 

“I love you,” Morrissey said softly.

Johnny smiled. “I love you too.” He then intertwined his hand with Morrissey’s and they went downstairs to meet Andy and Mike, who were overjoyed to see Morrissey. They really did care about him and for the first time in what felt like a long time, Morrissey could feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this! :) This took me awhile to write, but here it is! I wrote this also to give you guys something while I work on the next chapter of "Sixteen, Clumsy, and Shy" (sorry for taking so long).


End file.
